


Wrong

by sngsngsnyrslp



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: F/M, Morning After
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-01
Updated: 2015-10-01
Packaged: 2018-04-24 06:36:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4909093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sngsngsnyrslp/pseuds/sngsngsnyrslp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bulma finds herself in the arms of her ex-lover Vegeta.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wrong

**Author's Note:**

  * For [imjustsaiyan2](https://archiveofourown.org/users/imjustsaiyan2/gifts).



> HAPPY BIRTHDAY PAIGE! :D

It’s wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

            She finds herself draped over his chest on a Sunday morning with the light filtering in through the drawn curtains. Her turquoise hair is draped across his pectorals. The pink oversized t-shirt she’s wearing doesn’t belong to her, but it smells like the sleeping man beside her. There was no mistaking his scent of sandalwood, cedar and sweat.

            Their clothes are strewn all across his neat bedroom. Everything is in its place except for their clothing. She’s wearing his shirt, but his pants are on his desk chair and his boxers are on the ground beside his undershirt. Her magenta dress is crumpled in a pile close to the door. It’ll be wrinkled and everyone will know what she was doing the night before, but Bulma figures judgmental stares are preferable to speaking to him. She thanks herself for choosing the dress over the skirt and top combo, the less items of clothing she had to locate the better. She holds her breath while she slides her arm and cheek off of his chest. If he wakes up then they’ll have to talk and that’s the last thing she wants.

            Her bra is easily found peeking out from underneath his bed. She peeked over her shoulder at the sleeping man laid across the bed, tiptoeing to the far end of his room toward her dress, his chest continued rising and falling with even breaths. With haste, she has replaced his shirt with last night’s dress. The last item of clothing were her panties. Which ones had she worn? Her head was still hazy from the abundance of alcohol she had consumed the prior night. The bra she was wearing currently was blood red and she always wore a matching set of lingerie when she went out (just in case). Her mismatched sets were saved for going to class and afternoons spent at the Laundromat.

            “How is it possible that you’re so much louder when you’re trying not to be?” He sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. His hair was limp, the dark tendrils falling into his coffee-black eyes. “Though I’m bewildered why you decided to stay in the morning.” The edge of his lip curled up into a smirk. “You’re losing your touch, Woman.”

            Bulma groaned. How could her drunk-self be so stupid? “Can you just help me find my underwear so I can get out of here?” She tugged on the edge of her dress. “Stop looking at me like that! And don’t call me Woman. My name is Bulma!”

            “You should stop wasting your time. You’re not going to find them.” His left knee was pulled up, his elbow leaning on it as he watched her move across his bedroom. The sheet was barely covering his lap, his right hipbone winking at her.

            Her brain was working slower than usual, whether it was from the hangover or the man in front of her was beyond her. Couldn’t he just put a shirt on so she could think clearly?

            “Why won’t I find them? I had them last night. I remember that much.”

            He grinned. “You had them. But you must not remember telling me I should keep them last night. If memory serves me right, you insisted on it.”

            “I would never!”

            His eyes had a glint of mischief in them. “You would. You did.”

            “I hate you! I don’t even know why I would sleep with you!”

            Vegeta chuckled, his dark eyes boring into hers. “You know why. Don’t pretend like you don’t.”

            “You’re an asshole! It doesn’t matter if you can fuck me into oblivion if you don’t even care about me!”

            He glared at her, his lip curling into a snarl. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

            “What?” She avoided his gaze, staring at the floor for a scrap of red fabric.

            “Get over here!”

            Taken aback by his yell, she took a step backwards.

            “I’m not going to repeat myself.”

            Bulma took hesitant steps toward his bed. He was still undressed, but he’d tugged the blanket up to right underneath his belly button. His hands found her hips, his thumbs on her hipbones. He pulled her toward him, so she was now sitting on his lap. He caressed her cheek with his knuckles, slowly drawing them across her cheeks and down her neck toward her collarbones and between her breasts.

            This was as vulnerable as he would allow himself to be. I care, his touch whispered across her skin. I care more than you know.

            “Come back to sleep.” He didn’t let her answer before he was yanking her dress over her head. His hands slid up her back, undoing her clasp. He dipped his head, sucking lightly on her collarbones as he through her bra across the room. Vegeta pulled her into his body, his arm curled over her body to cup her breast.

            Bulma shivered; he was hard against her upper thigh. “Now we sleep. When we wake up, I’m going to fuck you into oblivion, okay?”

            She nodded, breathing in his scent all around her. Maybe it was wrong, but it felt so right.

           

           

           


End file.
